


stream line the complicated

by grandin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner-centric, Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, bruce banner is bad at feeling things, thor is well meaning, what not to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 18:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandin/pseuds/grandin
Summary: Thor's good intentions back Bruce into a corner.





	stream line the complicated

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY. It's 2018 and I'm projecting onto Bruce. Again.
> 
> Short and sweet: I also have panic disorder, and Bruce is the perfect conduit. In addition, I feel he's a very, very easy character to misunderstand, and this is a fic I've been probably meaning to write for years. 
> 
> Sidenote: this is by no means how every single person feels how people should deal with them during panic attacks, just mine. Consider this a quiet message to every well meaning friend who was a bit too...enthusiastic with trying to help. I appreciate the effort. But maybe ask first.
> 
> SIDE-SIDENOTE: This involves a pretty in depth description of a panic attack, and some briefly mentioned trauma. Continue with a bit of discretion.

If there was one thing Thor was magnificently great at, unrelated to being a god amongst men in the most literal of senses with the looks and smile of one, it was misreading Bruce’s body cues.

 

Thor lacked a distinct amount of fear around Bruce, which Bruce originally theorized was either because he was suicidal, stupid, suicidally stupid, oblivious, or maybe just hit his head enough times with his hammer to forget what Bruce _was_. Regardless, Thor had no qualms touching and poking and plainly disregarding whatever distance Bruce attempted to put between them. At a certain point, Bruce deliriously humored that it all could be a cruel joke, and Thor was just doing this to fuck with him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Bruce’s life was an unforgiving jackass like that.

 

But no, it was just how Thor functioned. (Which was maybe a little disappointing.) He was loud, unrelenting, imposing, grabby, and tenaciously sunny. And a morning person.

 

While Earth time didn’t exist in the depths of space, Bruce needed some sort of routine, and if he had to doctor himself a timed light fixture to mimic sunrise and set then goddamit he was going to do it. And Thor, contained sunbeam with chiseled abs and a personality to match it, fell into the self-imposed regimen alongside Bruce. Which meant that he woke up at ‘6 am’ as Bruce did, and he did so with a smile.

 

It was times like this that Bruce remembered Thor wasn’t human.

 

He didn’t even need to drink coffee. He just drank tea next to Bruce at the island and poked fun at the ‘silly little bear with a cap, why does a _bear_ need a cap, look Banner’ on the pilfered box of very illegal sleepy time tea. (Valkyrie got it for Bruce; he didn’t know where, or how, and didn’t really want to. It had stains of what was probably blood on the side of it, but the tea was fine, and that’s all that mattered.)

 

“Why do you drink sleepy time tea if you’re trying to wake up?” Thor asked, watching Bruce attentively as he sipped from his mug.

 

 _Cause the nightmares ramp me to hell in the morning and this is the only thing that can calm me down_. “Keeps the other guy at bay,” Bruce said instead.

 

“Ah,” Thor provided.

 

Bruce didn’t say anything.

 

Just gripped his mug and focused on how the heat was hurting his palms instead of whatever horrible bullshit he’d just violently awoken from. He didn’t wake up screaming this time, but it didn’t make it any less awful.

 

But at least Thor was in a good mood.

 

Shit, when wasn’t he?

 

“Do you think the bear has a family?” Thor asked, because he couldn’t seem to sit in silence.

 

Bruce stuck his nose as close to his steaming tea as he’d allow himself and breathed in deeply. Held it, counted, exhaled. And then responded, “I don’t know Thor, what do you think?”

 

It was easier to block out Thor’s rambling then try to answer it, so Bruce let Thor concoct some elaborate story about the sleepy time bear’s torrid love affairs, and then mentally checked the fuck out.

 

At some point, Thor went for Bruce’s attention, and then it all went to shit.

 

A few things happened very, very quickly: Thor tapped Bruce’s shoulder, Bruce flinched, and Thor took it too far.

 

“AH, THE SUN IS GOING DOWN,” Thor yelped, and both hands came clamping down on Bruce’s shoulders. Bruce cussed, surging upwards in surprise, and his mug tumbled, emptying its piping contents all over Bruce’s lap.

 

“The sun is going down, the sun is going down, you’re okay,” Thor mumbled, too big hands squeezing and rubbing rough circles into Bruce’s shoulder blades. Whatever calm Bruce had managed to achieve evaporated; the tension Thor attempted to work away only built, curled Bruce’s body tightly inward, and sped his breathing.

 

“Fuck, let go of me,” Bruce rasped, shaking fingers working futilely to wrench Thor’s hands off of him. Thor seemed elsewhere; still muttering continually about ‘the sun going down’ or whatever the fuck, it didn’t matter; he was in Bruce’s space, trapping Bruce, touching Bruce too much, needed to get off of Bruce, needed to get off of him right goddamn _now_.

 

“I said let _go_ ,” Bruce snapped, pressing a hand to Thor’s chest to shove him away. Thor shouldn’t have been able to budge, he was way stronger than Bruce, but he stumbled back and onto his ass with a surprised grunt. When Bruce turned to look at his hand, his shaking fingertips were green.

 

“Fuck,” Bruce hissed. Then cussed again, and again, and retreated to his room as quickly as he possibly could.

 

Thor followed, only to have the door slammed in his face. On another day, Bruce would’ve apologized, but not now. Right now he needed to get back to planet Bruce, which meant a quiet, private space where he could focus on his breathing long enough to will his heartbeat down.

 

At some point, Thor ceased pounding on the door and went away. Bruce didn’t care when. He laid curled on his bed, hands fisting the sheets, and cried.

 

Cried like he was ten years old again and the kids down the street called him a freak, or when his father drank too much and started yelling again. Shook and trembled and sobbed, tossed his whole body into it, pushed as much energy into crying as he could until the adrenaline bled away and the world stopped looking so green around the edges.

 

And then he went to sleep.

 

\---

 

When he woke up, there was tea on the bedside table with a note beside it.

 

_Sorry. --Thor_

 

_p.s. i tried drawing the sleepy time bear. here he is--- > _

 

Bruce squinted and turned the paper. Was it...supposed to be a bear? It kind of looked like a malformed cat with a vaguely triangular shape on its head. The note went on:

 

_p.p.s. loki said my drawing is ugly but i don’t think so. or at least i hope it isn’t. sorry if my sleepy time bear is actually ugly :(_

 

Bruce surprised himself with a weak laugh, a hoarse, helpless noise half dead in his throat, and then laughed again, and again, and again until it twisted into another brittle sob and he folded in on himself, shaking.

 

He finished the tea and went back to sleep.

 

Thankfully, he didn’t dream.

 

\---

 

When he woke up the second time, his clock read 3 pm.

 

Next to his clock, Thor froze midway reaching for Bruce’s empty mug.

 

“...Hello,” Thor whispered, waving belatedly. Bruce pushed himself onto one elbow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His face felt tacky and stiff, his throat parched. Faintly, his head hurt.

 

“Hey,” Bruce croaked. He let his hand drop heavily back against the bed and blinked slowly at Thor. “Have you had lunch already?”

 

Thor, as if surprised he was even being acknowledged, opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “N-no, not yet. Are you hungry?”

 

“God, yeah,” Bruce groaned, sitting up. “Thirsty, too. Could use some water--”

 

“I’ll get it for you,” Thor said suddenly.

 

“...Oh,” Bruce blinked. “Um. Thank you. I’d appreciate that,”

 

Thor left, Bruce stared into nothing while his brain dethawed, and then Thor returned with a glass of water and a plate of chicken.

 

“You didn’t need to--” Bruce started.

 

“Shoosh,” Thor interrupted, handing Bruce the food and water. “Fuel.” Thor added, pointing. Brows raised and smiling, pleased with his Midguardian analogy.

 

Bruce snorted and hid his smile behind a swig of water.

 

Bruce wasn’t awake enough to feel self conscious about Thor staring at him from the edge of his bed, but as he finished his water and cleared his plate, he slowly came back to his body. Now very aware of how tangible Thor’s worried stares could feel.

 

“Please stop looking at me like that,” Bruce said quietly.

 

Thor jumped, cleared his throat awkwardly, and studiously stared at the wall. “Sorry,” he tacked on. “And sorry for earlier, too,”

 

“No, uh,” Bruce rubbed his mouth, not able to look at Thor, and instead joining the sightseeing of the far wall. Very interesting view, a fascinating shade of powder blue. “I should be the one apologizing. Kinda flipped out on you back there,”

 

“Because of me,” Thor added.

 

Bruce didn’t disagree.

 

“We both fucked up,” Bruce said after a moment. “But, uh. No harm, no foul,”

 

“Yes,” Thor agreed.

 

“Mhm,” Bruce said.

 

They sat in painful awkward silence for a few long, torturous seconds. Then, like too morons mind linked in their idiocy, opened their mouths simultaneously:

 

“Thor, I--”

 

“Banner, if it’s not too much-- Oh, you first,”

 

“No, no, you,”

 

“Oh, but I insist--”

 

“Thor, just-- Okay, no we’re not doing that,” Bruce cut in, holding up a hand to cut them both off. “Okay. Better. _Now_ what were you going to say?”

 

Thor flashed an awkward smile, started and stopped a few times, then finally blurted, “That really didn’t seem to work too well. Me trying to calm you down, I mean. Is there anything I should know or do that would help for future reference? Because I really, really don’t want _that_ \--” he motioned at the air vaguely, “--to happen again. If. I could help it, I mean.”

 

Whatever Bruce was going to say died on his tongue. Out of all the things to fall out of that golden retriever of a man’s mouth, regard for Bruce’s personal wellbeing was not one of them. ”Uh,” he started intelligently. “Sorry. Say that again?”

 

“Oh, well,” Thor turned, hands raised and moving. “Given that you’re not only a valiant and important teammate, you’re also my friend, and if I could help, y’know, make things easier for you, I’d love to know how. But I think just asking you instead of doing would probably work best. Considering my way kinda...sucks,”

 

Bruce huffed a short, dry laugh. “Understatement,” he muttered. “Shit. Sorry, that was rude,”

 

“No, no!” Thor said, grinning. “I like rude Banner. If that means inconveniencing him less.”

 

“You’re weird,” Bruce said, delicately. The smile that cracked across Thor’s face was huge, blinding, and tickled Bruce’s instinctual need to hide whenever he approached something good for him. “Do you have a death wish?”

 

“Yes,” Thor said immediately. “But--” he waved it off, “not about this. Or you. What can I do to help?”

 

If the other guy was anything to go by, Bruce was extremely inept at grappling his emotions. They hindered more often than helped, confused him, and, very literally, were potentially dangerous. To say he was utterly out of tune with himself was an undervalue with a body count.

 

What he felt for Thor was that, but somehow, magically, even more complicated.

 

And like most things Bruce felt that perplexed him, he shoved them viciously under the rug with all the other emotions and baggage accumulated and ignored over the years.

 

But Thor was determined, and annoying. He wouldn’t leave Bruce alone about this unless he Hulked out and beat some distance between them, and even then he’d raise to shaky feet and keep trying. It was a tenacity that set Bruce’s teeth on edge and spiked his heart rate, but there was nowhere to run in bumfuck dead space.

 

Bruce was going to have to deal with it.

 

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked, dazed and stalling. Thor blinked innocently and cocked his head. The honesty made Bruce’s stomach turn.

 

“Well, what things should I avoid if you’re having a...moment,” Thor settled on delicately. “Not to trivialize,” he continued.

 

 _Start with letting me leave. Get away. You don’t know what you’re doing._ “Uh.” Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes; shit was easier to deal with the less senses he had. “Rule number one. Let’s start with not touching me so much,”

 

“Got it,” Thor tossed two thumbs up. “No touching. I can do that,”

 

“Like at all. It makes it a lot worse,”

 

“Absolutely, I understand,”

 

The sincerity was nauseating. “Okay.” Bruce folded his glasses carefully. “Um. Rule number two. Just because I flinch doesn’t mean I’m going to hulk out right then and there. I’m not breakable. I’m just…” Bruce ran his thumb over the screw attaching the arm of his glasses to the frame. “Not used to being around people, is all. Not a big deal,”

 

Bruce felt the look Thor was giving him, and it wasn’t one of pity. He didn’t understand, so he ignored it. He didn’t wait for a voice of assent, and continued, “Number three, and honestly, just-- I don’t know what you’re talking about with the ‘sun going down’ weirdness, but you can just. Stop...that,” Bruce risked a glance up, and found Thor’s gaze was one of surprise.

 

“Oh! Okay. Yeah, I get that,” Thor said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “That’s true. It really does sound like a load of horseshit, huh?”

 

Bruce shocked both of them with a laugh. A beat of silence, then another laugh, and finally, Thor joining in. The two of them cackled on Bruce’s bed like a pair of deranged maniacs, tears pricking the corner of Bruce’s eyes.

 

“It’s pretty dumb, isn’t it?” Thor wheezed, leaning in close.

 

“It’s so dumb. Where did-- what’s that even mean?” Bruce asked, his smile unexpectedly authentic.

 

“I don’t know! I think I just, picked it up? Or put it down. Y’know, like--”

 

“That’s stupid,”

 

“You’re stupid,”

 

“Do you have a degree?” Bruce asked, incredulous, and Thor’s head dropped on his shoulder, the curve of his back shaking with laughter.

 

“I didn’t even go to college,” Thor told Bruce’s arm dejectedly, and Bruce broke. Laughed so damn hard he doubted he could breathe for a second, listing off to the side and nearly falling onto his bed before Thor caught him and held him upright.

 

“Sorry,” Thor said, still smiling and keeping Bruce against him, warm and present. “You said no touching--”

 

“No, uh--” Bruce’s grin turned shy. “This is fine.”

 

Thor squeezed Bruce closer and rested his chin on the top of the other’s head. It felt so safe and comfortable, and the moment, blessedly, too bright for any of the dark thoughts that typically nagged Bruce to infect it. “Good,” Thor said.

 

And for the moment, Bruce let himself enjoy it.


End file.
